


Paris

by ariadnerue



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, anxiety fluff, that means i'm nervous about the rest of the season so i write fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadnerue/pseuds/ariadnerue
Summary: "Oh! Like Paris. We could go to Paris and- and- and get a crappy apartment, and read Simone de Beauvoir and eat chocolate croissants..."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I did the thing.

Laura was awoken by the sound of rain. And also the cat licking her hand.

“Carm, gross,” she grunted automatically, but the cat she ended up pushing away from her wasn’t Carmilla. She opened one eye to find a calico on the pillow beside her head giving her a rather disgruntled look.

Ah yes. One of the strays.

Laura sat up slowly, stretching and yawning as she did so. The rain was relaxing enough for her to fall right back to sleep, but if there was a street cat on Carmilla’s pillow, it begged the question: where was Carmilla?

After the requisite amount of stretching, Laura took a bleary look around their bedroom. There was another cat on the windowsill, watching the rain drip down the glass with wide eyes. Laura must have slept in, because the sky was already bright and gray. She could just make out the watery image of the towers of Notre-Dame over the roofs of the surrounding apartment buildings.

“Carm?” Laura called, reaching over to scratch the calico behind the ears. He started purring immediately. “Carmilla? Where are you?”

She didn’t need to raise her voice much to be heard in their little apartment, so the fact that there was no response told her Carmilla was not in the building. She pouted, turning to the cat.

“Do you know where she went?” she asked quietly, but the cat just licked her hand again. She sighed and slumped back against the pillows.

Thunder rumbled outside, long and slow and rolling, and Laura smiled. She loved thunderstorms. But then the thought of Carmilla out in the rain made her sigh. She probably forgot to bring an umbrella, wherever she had gone.

A small meow got her attention and she looked over at Carmilla’s pillow. Two little gray kittens had joined the calico, frightened by the thunder. Laura rolled her eyes and grinned, lifting the two kittens into her lap. She and Carmilla had only lived here for about a week now, but after only a couple days Carmilla had made some sort of arrangement with the local street cats.

The cats could pass through all they wanted. They could even stay a while. There was always food and water available, and warm corners to sleep in. But they were to act civil while in Laura and Carmilla’s home. They did all their business outside, they didn’t scratch the furniture or leave dead mice, and if Laura or Carmilla wanted all the cats out of the room, all it took was a quick _“allez ouste”_ and they were gone.

When Laura had asked why they couldn’t just say “scat” to get the cats to leave, Carmilla had looked at her like she was crazy and told her they were _French_ cats, obviously. They wouldn’t know _English_.

Laura let it slide.

So at any given time there were at least two cats in the house, not counting any vampires that could turn into cats.

Laura liked it. A week in and she barely even noticed them unless she wanted to. And there were always kittens around, like the two little gray fluff balls asleep on Laura’s chest. They were so warm, and so quiet, and the rhythmic motion of their breathing must have lulled Laura back to sleep, because the next thing she knew she was waking up to Carmilla running a finger softly from her hairline down to the tip of her nose.

She did that sometimes because it tickled, and it made Laura wrinkle her nose up in a way that she apparently found adorable.

“There you are,” Laura sighed sleepily, a slow smile spreading across her face as she took in Carmilla’s appearance. She had, apparently, forgotten her umbrella, because her hair was damp and there were raindrops clinging to her eyelashes. She had already shed her wet jacket and boots on the way back to the bed, leaving her in a dark red tank top and black skinny jeans, which were damp nearly up to her knees.

“Were you worried about me?” Carmilla teased quietly, leaning in so the wet ends of her hair tickled Laura’s face. Before Laura could answer, a kiss was pressed to her lips, slow and soft and tasting like rain.

“Hard to worry when I have such pleasant company,” Laura hummed, and Carmilla’s eyes softened just a bit at the sight of the kittens pressed into the hollow below her ribcage. Laura pouted. “Now take off your pants and get back into bed with me.”

Carmilla laughed and rolled her eyes, turning away to shimmy out of her jeans.

“Aren’t you even going to ask why I was out so early?” she asked lightly, words followed by the sodden sound of her pants hitting the floor.

“Of course, darling, how rude of me,” Laura sighed, pushing up on her elbows to better look at Carmilla without dislodging the kittens. Carmilla rolled her eyes again at Laura’s cheeky grin. “Why were you out so early?”

“I had to make a couple of purchases,” Carmilla replied airily, producing a bag from the floor beside the bed.

Intrigued, Laura finally sat up fully, earning herself a reproachful meow as the kittens were forced from their warm spot down into her lap.

“You got me presents?” Laura teased through a toothy grin.

“Well, we have the crappy apartment in Paris,” Carmilla shrugged, and Laura realized she was bashful. Carmilla only got this way when she did something really sweet and romantic, and Laura felt her heart flutter in anticipation. But she had to tease a little along the way.

“This apartment isn’t crappy,” she protested immediately. It kind of was, actually. The wood floors creaked and the paint was peeling in the corners and there had been a mouse problem before it became a halfway home for every cat in Paris. But it was also cozy and charming and perfect, with lots of big windows and a lovely view. And in the past week she and Carmilla had made it a home, shelves bursting with books and window boxes spilling over with geraniums and violets, hanging planters full of herbs in the kitchen and warm blankets on every chair, sofa, and bed. They had a plush old rug in the hall and flowy curtains on the windows, and it was like a beautiful little picture book about what happiness should look like.

Laura _loved_ their crappy apartment in Paris. But wait, that phrasing sounded kind of familiar…

Carmilla had a plan, apparently, because she ignored Laura’s little outburst and reached into the bag.

“All we need now is some Simone de Beauvoir to read,” she began, pulling out battered old copies of _Tous les hommes sont mortels_ , _Le Deuxième Sexe_ , and _L'Invitée_ that she may have gotten at any of the number of used bookstores situated along the street they lived on. Laura lit up, grabbing the books one by one and running her fingers over the covers, fanning through the pages and breathing in the old book smell with glee. But Carmilla wasn’t done. “And some chocolate croissants to eat.”

The last item in the bag was a pastry box full of the most delicious-looking chocolate croissants Laura had ever seen. They were still warm and they smelled like heaven and Laura realized with a jolt that this was exactly what she had wanted. Given the possibility of freedom from the Dean, Laura’s imagination had run away with her and she had spoken without thinking, rambling on about how her ideal future was one with Carmilla and Simone de Beauvoir and Carmilla and chocolate croissants and Carmilla and Paris and _Carmilla_ , even though at the time, they weren’t even together.

And Carmilla remembered. Every word.

Laura met Carmilla’s eyes to find her smiling, waiting for her to realize what it all meant. She felt tears welling in her eyes and Carmilla must have noticed, because she panicked.

“Is this not… is this not right? Is this not what you wanted?” she asked quickly, her voice low and nervous as she cast a critical look at all the beautiful things she’d just bought. “I’m sorry, I thought…”

“Stop,” Laura laughed, reaching out and taking Carmilla’s face in her hands. Her skin was chilly from the rain and she relaxed instantly under Laura’s touch. “Carm, it’s perfect. It’s all perfect. _You’re_ perfect.” Carmilla blushed at that, skin warming beneath Laura’s palms, and Laura just smiled and pulled her in for a kiss. “I just can’t believe you remembered.” Another kiss, this one slower and deeper. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Carmilla sighed blissfully, and Laura was so distracted by Carmilla’s hot, languid kisses that she didn’t even notice her moving the kittens off so she could lay her whole body on top of Laura’s, squishing her into the bed. Laura laughed helplessly and Carmilla grinned. “I always forget your tears can mean any number of things. You need to warn me when you happy cry.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Laura grunted, trying to wriggle free and failing miserably. Carmilla leaned down until their noses were touching, smiling widely.

“Sorry, love, you can’t go anywhere,” Carmilla sighed, running her fingers through Laura’s hair slowly. “I have big plans for you.”

“Oh you do?” Laura hummed, and the suggestion in Carmilla’s tone made her heart race and her skin tingle.

But then Carmilla pushed herself up on her elbows, hovering over Laura with a serious expression on her face.

“Yes, we have croissants to eat and existential philosophy to read.”

She planted a last quick kiss on Laura’s lips and rolled off of her, sitting up and dragging Laura up into a sitting position by her hands. Laura was visibly flustered, but she still laughed. She couldn’t help it. This was what they’d been fighting for. Time to flirt and laugh and tease and love each other without fear.

So they sat in their bed and ate their way through a box of the absolute best chocolate croissants in the world, and Laura settled back against Carmilla’s front and read _Le Deuxième Sexe_ out loud so Carmilla could correct her pronunciation when she got it wrong and translate when she didn’t know what it meant. The rain eventually lulled them both back to sleep, and when Laura woke back up hours later in Carmilla’s arms, with Carmilla’s nose and lips pressed against her neck and _three_ kittens in her lap, she realized she had never been quite this happy in her whole life.

After all, Carmilla Karnstein had met her match in Laura Hollis.


End file.
